


comfort crowd || dreamnotfound oneshots

by sourschlatt



Category: Minecraft (Video Game)
Genre: Angst, Boys In Love, Domestic Fluff, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, M/M, One Shot, Soft Boys
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-10-24
Updated: 2020-10-24
Packaged: 2021-03-08 19:09:14
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 2,853
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27171569
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sourschlatt/pseuds/sourschlatt
Summary: just a few lil one shots of our favourite boys.also i would like that this is all for fun, and i mainly just use dnf to write because thats what im most familiar with. if they ever ask for stories of them to be deleted, this will be taken down immediately. i do not ship them as real people, just their personas. thank you.
Relationships: Clay | Dream & GeorgeNotFound (Video Blogging RPF)
Comments: 30
Kudos: 110





	1. sick

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> this was requested by mushroomcow69 :) thank you! i hope this cut it to your standards.
> 
> also, i debated making this romantic or not and decided i would in fact do that, but if you think that it would be better off as just george taking care of his friend then let me know and i'll be glad to change it :)

A whine sounded next to George, and the brunette frowned. It was eight in the morning, which was very unlike Clay to be awake at this hour. So, naturally, he looked over to examine what the cause of the noise was.

"Dream?" George questioned, rolling over onto his other side to face Clay. He had the sheets wrapped around him as tightly as they could be, almost as if it was a straight jacket, and was shivering. His wavy hair was stuck to his forehead from the layer of sweat that coated his pale skin in a thin sheet.

Clay had spoken last night about he didn't feel the best and he had called it an early night, standing from where they had been on the couch and dragged himself to his room and, hopefully, straight to bed. Despite this, George didn't think anything of it and presumed that maybe a little bit more rest was going to help the other boy.

"Oh, sweetheart." The brit mumbled, throwing the sheets off of himself and quickly standing, rushing over to the other side of the bed to get a look at his lover's face.

He reached out, placing a hand on Clay's skin to feel for a temperature. He was hot to the touch, and when George pulled his hand away the warmth stayed. So he was running a fever.

"G-George," Clay stuttered out through chattering teeth. His lips formed a pout, and if it hadn't of been for the current situation, George would have kissed the pout away from his mouth until he smiled his pretty smile once again.

"I-I'm cold."

George smiled sadly, and nodded in response. "I know, dear. I know you are. You're running a fever."

Clay's pout got larger, and George felt a weird sense of guilt writhe in his stomach. Why? He wasn't sure, but seeing the person he loved the most in this world not feel well made him feel terrible beyond relief.

"I know this isn't going to sound the most ideal to you at the moment, but you need to take the covers and stuff off. You need to sweat the fever out, or you're gonna feel worse." 

Clay whined louder, and George frowned. He knew how cold his boy probably is, and if he were in that position, he knew he would want all the blankets in the world covering his frail body to try and take the coldness out of his bones.

"I know, baby, but it needs to happen. Your body is overheating with all the blankets." The brit explained, and he moved to start removing the comforter off of Clay's shivering body. With each inch that he removed from his cold boyfriend, the worse that he felt. Clay's hands were latched onto the black fabric, but they were only slightly fighting George to pull the covers back up to their original position.

"I know that it's really cold, my love, but you have to do this. It's the only way that you're gonna feel better." George said when he finally got the fabric out of his lover's hands and down towards his feet. As a replacement to the complete loss of any sort of warmth, George grabbed a thinner blanket off the back of his gaming chair and threw it over Clay's body. And, not to his surprise, his boyfriend grabbed the blanket and threw it over his shoulders.

George hated seeing Clay like this, and he only wished that he could take it from him and put it upon himself.

A small cough sounded from Clay, and then a sneeze followed after it.

"I think I might be sick." Clay said, trying his best to give some sort of humor in this situation. It caused George to chuckle slightly, but that sad feeling still sat heavy in his chest.

"I'm going to go and make you some tea, okay? It'll help with your sinuses and any sort of throat problems." George said, bringing a hand down and moving the pretty dirty-blonde locks out of Clay's eyes.

"You don't," The Florida boy started, but got interrupted by a cough. "You don't have to baby me."

"I'm not babying you, Clay, I'm taking care of you. I'll be back. Stay here, okay?"

A small nod from his boyfriend sent George scuffling into the kitchen, ignoring the biting chill from the tiled floor against the bottom of his bare feet. He rushed around, grabbing the herbal tea bags and mug to put the drink in. Usually he would go and boil the water himself in the tea kettle that he had jokingly bought Clay on their first Christmas together, but had turned into something that he used when he wanted to make anyone some tea. For now, he decided that he wanted to get the beverage to his lover as quickly as he possibly could, and put the tea bag into the coffee maker.

Placing the mug underneath the spout, it allowed for a short moment of silence. Small coughs and the occasional sneeze sounded from upstairs. George sighed and pushed his short hair back off of his forehead, watching the tea fill the familiar white mug that had Clay's signature smile on it. A small smile formed on the brit's face just from the sight alone. He had never been more in love.

George grabbed the mug and turned off the coffee maker when the white mug was full, taking the warm ceramic into his hands and rushing back to their room.

"Here you go." George said gently, placing the tea down onto the bedside table.

Clay reluctantly sat up and grabbed the mug, giving George a small smile before taking a small sip.

"Black cherry. Your favorite." George mumbled sheepishly, a small blush forming on his face at the teasing look his boyfriend gave him. Despite having been together for a few months, George still god flustered when Clay did the smallest of things. Anything.

Clay took a few more sips of the warm drink, before he set it down and adjusted himself in the bed. This time, however, he shifted over, and lifted the light blanket and gestured for George to join him.

And of course, he did just that.

The brunette crawled into the bed, and instantly wrapped his arms around Clay's torso, ignoring the slight cold dampness to his shirt. It didn't matter to him anyways.

Clay latched his arms around George's body, and pressed a soft kiss to his forehead. "Thank you, angel."

George smiled against Clay's chest before reaching his head up and pressing a soft kiss to the corner of his mouth.

"You don't have to thank me, I just want you to get better." The brit hummed, adjusting his body so that there was little room between the two boys. Surely body heat wouldn't be too bad for someone's fever, right?

"And why is that?" Clay questioned, raising an eyebrow as he peered down at his smaller boyfriend.

"So I can kiss you, duh."

Clay laughed and then quickly leaned down, pressing his lips to George's own and moving away before his smaller boyfriend had the chance to push him away from the gesture.

"What the hell? You're gonna get me sick!" George whined, shoving his head back into the position that it was previously in, hiding his face away from his lover.

"Well, if that happens, then it looks like I'm just gonna have to take care of you, huh?" Clay mumbled, pressing another kiss to his boyfriend's head and pulling him closer, despite the fact that there was already as little room as there could be between them.

There was silence from both of the boys for a while, no noise from either of them except the occasional sniffle or cough from Clay, or the shuffling of George readjusting and getting more comfortable in his position.

"I love you so much, George."

George smiled sheepishly and looked up at Clay once more, bringing a hand forward and cupping his cheek.

"I love you too, Clay."


	2. introductions!

hello and welcome to the one shot stories!

you can leave any requests that you want here, and of course on any chapters that you read prior to this post.

i’ll try and get an actual one shot up in the next couple of days, and it would help loads if you dropped suggestions!

there are limited things that i wont do, and the only major thing that i refuse is any form of major character death. now, that doesn’t mean i won’t write a situation of a character dealing with someone else’s death.

i just don’t vibe super hard with any super heavy angst.

another thing i don’t vibe with super hard is smut, but i _will_ write if it is something highly requested.

PSA:  
i do not wish to make anyone uncomfortable here with my writing, so if dream or george were to ever say they didn’t like anything written about them, this would be taken down immediately, along with my other works. i mean nothing but respect and love for these boys.

anyways, yes, welcome to the stories. please leave what you wanna see down below! i love you all, take care of yourselves.

-sourschlatt


	3. where's my love?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> maybe this could be a mini series? let me know if you could would like that.
> 
> this also kind of made me want to write a one shot where someone is recovering from the other's death but i think that might be a lil too sad for the moment ._.

Waking up to cold sheets wasn't something that Clay was used to. He was used to rolling over and wrapping his arms around the person that held his heart in his hands. He was used to pressing a kiss to the person's head and pulling the small body closer to his own. So of course, when the woke up to an empty bed, cold from the lack of a body residing in it, Clay was more than confused.

He sat up, looking around his room for any sign of his lover.

"George?" He called into the empty bedroom. There was no response, so he called out the name once more, yet there was still nothing.

Clay threw the sheets off of his body, goosebumps rising on his skin from the sudden rush of slightly cooler air. He threw his legs over the side of the bed and stood, panic rising in his chest at a very rapid rate. He would never admit this out loud, but he had such a heavy dependency on George, and with him just suddenly being gone was causing more worry than he wanted to admit.

"George!" Clay called once more, practically running out of the bedroom and to the kitchen. He hoped that he would run down the hallway and see his short boyfriend standing in front of the fridge, maybe holding a cup of coffee or orange juice, staring at him with a little devilish smile that he loved oh so much. He hoped. He hoped more than anything else in this world.

But there was nothing there. No one standing there to tell Clay that everything was okay, that George had maybe just gone to the shop to grab a few items for them. That maybe George had decided that he wanted to use the other bathroom's shower and that he was overreacting for nothing.

But there was no reason for George to need to go to the shop. And there was no water sounding from anywhere in the quiet house. There was nothing, so where the _fuck_ was George?

There was no note. No text. No nothing to let Clay know where he could have gone. It was like George had just disappeared into thin air. Like he simply never existed and everything that they had was simply just a figment of Clay's imagination.

The dirty-blonde haired boy ran back to the room, grabbing his phone off the bedside table and dialing George's number with frantic fingers.

Ring.

Ring.

Ring.

No answer.

He tried again, his heart picking up rapidly in speed as he listened to the monotone ringing, and then the voicemail sound.

Something was wrong. This was wrong. _Where was George?_

\--

"I don't know where he went, Bad. He just disappeared. It's been two days and there's been nothing. He didn't leave a note or anything." Clay watched as Bad placed a bowl of ramen in front of him, but paid no mind to the actual food. He hadn't had the appetite nor the motivation to feed himself. Not since George left.

"I-I really don't know, Clay. I really don't." Bad mumbled, sitting down in the chair adjacent to the spot that Clay was sitting in.

He hated seeing his friend like this. It was so terribly obvious that the green eyed boy hadn't slept at all during these last forty-eight hours, let alone showered or ate. It was worrying, but it was also more than understand. He himself was having a hard time forcing food down, and the only reason he's been trying so hard since hearing the news was to maybe encourage Clay to do the same.

Clay curled in on himself, bringing his knees to his chest and wrapping his arms around them. His tired eyes stared blankly at the wall, but it was so clear his brain was going at a million miles a minute.

The two boys were quiet, neither having anything to say to the other one. The silence in the room was deafening, pressing on their ears. It was never this quiet when George was here, the british boy always having something to say no matter the situation. That was one of the reasons why Clay loved him so dearly. There was an extensive list of reasons why George made his heart race and a smile spread onto his face. He was love sick. 

Now he's worried sick. 

"What did I do wrong, Bad?" Clay asked weakly into the silence, his green eyes still staring blankly at the wall. They burned with tears that threatened to roll down his cheeks. Everything in him ached, a sort of unbearable pain that he had never experienced before. A pain that made his _bones_ ache. He had never felt this much pain before in his life. 

"Clay, you didn't do anything wrong," Bad said quietly, looking at his friend with sad eyes. "You didn't. George loves you so much, and you-" 

"Then why did he leave me?" Clay asked harshly, the words coming out before he had a chance to stop himself. The tears were spilling now, rolling down his freckled cheeks and his neck, soaking the collar of his shirt. He was hurting, and he didn't know what to do. 

"Clay-" 

"He left me, Bad, and he didn't even tell me why." The younger of the two mumbled, standing up from his spot on the couch and walking over to the wall, his eyes landing on a picture of him and George when the brit had first flown to Florida, their arms wrapped around each other as they saw each other for the first time in the flesh. His eyes moved away from the picture, roaming across the wall of pictures. Everything was just a blur of colors due to his tears, but he still knew each and every picture that he looked. 

"Did he run away?" Clay asked quietly as his hand came up and brushed against the cool glass of the picture frame, blinking away the tears filling his eyes so that he could see George's gorgeous face smiling at him. A smile that made his heart swell. 

A smile that he was terrified that he was never going to see again. 

"i don't know." Bad said after a short moment, watching Clay look over the pictures miserably. He wished that there was something- anything- that he could do to make this easier. But everyone was struggling at the moment. When Nick found out, he cried with Clay. When Wilbur found out, he had simply disconnected from the call, stating that he needed time to think and try and find a solution. Even Tommy had been speechless, and privately send Clay his condolences and offered to help in any possible way that he could. 

Clay didn't respond, instead just moved back to the couch and grabbed his phone. Despite the fact that he knew it wasn't going to happen, he still wished that there would be some sort of notification from George. A text, a call, even a tweet that wasn't directed to him. He just needed to know that George was even _okay._

He unlocked his phone, looking at his home screen. A picture of him and George, staring at each other, the love evident in their eyes. His soulmate, gone. Vanished.

"Clay-" Bad said quietly, his heart shattering into a million pieces. There was no response. 

Did you run away? Nevermid, I-I don't need to know." Clay muttered his phone, as if George would look at him through the device and speak to him. Part of him wished that it would. 

A tear hit the screen and slid down, blurring it slightly and bringing out the pixels. He was miserable. He was nobody without George. 

"If you ran away, come back home." 

The phone screen went dark. 

"Just come home."


End file.
